


Digging Holes and Ditches

by BoStarsky



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Happy Ending tho, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda sad smut, M/M, a bit angsty, mentions of period typical homophobia, the soft bois before they became the soft bois, this is very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoStarsky/pseuds/BoStarsky
Summary: He’s already been made so there’s no point in hiding, this is it then, he survived the fucking KKK only to end up dead in an alley by the hands of a friend. “Whatever you’re going to do just get it over with. Shoot me, beat me up, rat me out, just do it,” hands shaking he taps a cigarette out thinking he’d like at least one last smoke before his life goes to shit.“I’m not going to hurt you,” Ron sounds offended that he’d even imply such a thing.“Why? I know what you saw.” All of this could have been avoided if he’d just tried harder to be normal instead of having this stupid indulgence.
Relationships: Ron Stallworth/Flip Zimmerman
Comments: 27
Kudos: 141





	Digging Holes and Ditches

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the trial fic that started it all, where the Soft Bois were born and a series started. I never posted this, it’s been in my docs for almost a year, today I figured why not since I’m quite pleased with it.
> 
> Enjoy

“What are you good for?” It’s impersonal, just how Flip likes it, how it should be. Every encounter he’s had has been like this, shoved up against the wall behind a dumpster in the alley. It’s the safest way for someone like him. 

“Anything,” Curt and to the point, rough and anonymous. Best not to get attached. 

“Let me fuck that ass,” the one time a year he does this he preps himself with generous amounts of lube, tucks a condom into his pocket and walks across town to one of the local gay bars. He leaves his usual flannel at home in favour of a black t-shirt and leather jacket, something that doesn’t look like him, anything to lessen the risk of being recognised. Then lets himself get fucked, or fucks some pretty boy out behind the bar before getting piss drunk to forget the whole thing. 

It’s what’s best in the long run. 

His partner tugs violently at Flip’s belt, he looks like an ordinary family man giving in to his vice, a little too drunk and overconfident. He’s just handed over the foil wrapped condom when someone calls out to them and in a flash his hook up turns on him. 

“Fucking faggot!” A fist catches him in the cheek grazing off his nose. It’s not much of a punch, angled awkwardly and too close to do much damage, but it surprises him enough that he gets away leaving Flip to whatever fate awaits him. 

“Shit!” Someone is running up to him and he does the only thing he can think of throwing his arms up to shield his head and praying to god that whoever it is doesn’t have a gun. 

But the footsteps pass him following his trick until they suddenly stop a few feet away. He could run, he should. He could also pretend he’s undercover, but that’s a weak excuse. 

“You okay?” Why does that voice sound so damn familiar? “Flip?” Hearing his own name pinpoints it, Ron fucking Stallworth. Who else would it be, but the black supercop of Colorado Springs. 

He’s already been made so there’s no point in hiding, this is it then, he survived the fucking KKK only to end up dead in an alley by the hands of a friend. “Whatever you’re going to do just get it over with. Shoot me, beat me up, rat me out, just do it,” hands shaking he taps a cigarette out thinking he’d like at least one last smoke before his life goes to shit. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Ron sounds offended that he’d even imply such a thing. 

“Why? I know what you saw.” All of this could have been avoided if he’d just tried harder to be normal instead of having this stupid indulgence. 

“I didn’t see anything,” he smiles disarmingly putting his hands up in a sign of peace, deescalate. Always the good cop. “Just some guy punching my friend in the face for no good reason.” He steps closer and Flip can’t conceal the automatic flinch in the face of expected danger. 

“What are you doing out here anyway?” The nicotine helps soothe his anxiety if only a little, he’d like to go back inside and proceed to the black out drunk portion of the night, but as long as Ron is standing there looking concerned he won’t go anywhere. 

“Had a date, didn’t go well. Not for either of us I suppose.” You can say that again, for all of his shady hook ups none of them have gone far enough to actually hurt him, most wouldn’t dare once he stands up to his full height. He’s lucky in that sense. 

“What do you want?” If Ron isn’t going to rat him out then he must have extortion on his mind, it’s just too far fetched that a straight man has nothing against Flip’s proclivities. A fairytale concept. He’s never that lucky. 

“I want to buy you a beer and offer you my leftover lasagna,” What? “It’s the least I can do for interrupting your date.” Ok if that’s how it is, fine, he’ll suck a dick to keep his job. Not exactly the kind of sex he was going for when he left home tonight, but he can live with that for the sake of staying straight in the eyes of his friends and coworkers. 

However when they get to Ron’s place and all he does is slap a bag of frozen peas onto Flip’s bruised face and shove a plate full of lasagna in the microwave Flip is left more confused than ever. No one is this nice to a queer, not even Ron fucking Stallworth. 

A heap of salad goes next to the steaming pasta before it’s deposited in front of him with a smile. At first Flip just stares suspiciously, flickering between the food and his friend, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“The closest thing to a vegetable I’ve seen you eat is ketchup.” Ron must assume he’s taken offence to the pile of green. Flip still doesn’t believe this is real, but he relinquishes his peas in exchange for a fork and digs in. 

The tv gets switched on in the ensuing silence, some late night talk show babbling in the background until the plate is empty and Flip still can’t find the words to say. Should he just get on his knees or wait to be prompted? They continue on in excruciating silence for another twenty minutes before his anticipation gets the better of him.

He clears his throat, “So... what do you want?” his voice cracks and he can’t bring himself to raise his eyes from the table, studying the wood grain while he waits. He’s ready for anything so in essence Ron can ask for whatever he wants and Flip can’t say no, not this time. 

“I want my friend to be okay.” There he goes again with those impossible answers. “I don’t care if you’re gay and I’m sure as shit not going to take advantage of you.” Oh. There is no other shoe, unbelievable as it is, he’s safe here, free to be himself for the first time in his life. A friend who truly knows him and still cares, a friend he doesn’t have to act like he’s interested in women in front of. 

He’s never once admitted to his own sexuality since his father beat him black and blue for kissing a boy when he was thirteen, threatening to send him to one of those conversion camps. Not even to himself has he really admitted it, too scared that someone would read it in his face, notice how he doesn’t leer at women or keep a copy of playboy in his desk like everyone else. And now here he is, safe for the first time in two decades. It lightens a load he’d gotten so used to carrying enough that he can feel how tired his soul is from hiding. 

Ron smiles softly, watching Flip sort through his thoughts over the mouth of a bottle. 

“How are you so nice?” Is all he can think to say in the end. “Anyone else would have skinned me alive by now.” Despite the fact that he’s gotten away scot free from something that could have been the end of him he’s still tempted to offer himself up. He came out tonight with a goal and now it’s too late to go elsewhere if he wants to be functional in the morning, Ron is his only viable option. 

There must be a line somewhere that he has yet to cross, there always is. But where’s that line right now?

“I’ll still suck your dick if you want,” he figures he can blame the beer he’s absolutely not had enough of if shit goes sideways. 

This has the potential to go very, horribly wrong, propositioning a straight man is a dangerous game. Even if Ron says yes Flip doesn’t expect anything in return, if you close your eyes a mouth is like any other, but it ruins the illusion if a second dick gets involved. He learned that the hard way. 

“I consider myself a traditional man, I like to take things slow.” Well, it’s the nicest rejection he’s been served, he’s okay with that. “How about we start with this?” Ron takes him by surprise yet again, this time by stepping up and bending down to lay one on him. 

The kiss is long and slow, a stark difference from the violent biting he’s used to, he even let’s Flip lead. It all makes him wonder for a brief second if he’s drunker than he thought, but two beers is nowhere near enough to make him dream like this. 

For once in his life he decides not to look the gift horse in the mouth and just take whatever Ron is willing to give him. They do end up in the bedroom after all and that’s where Flip starts getting nervous, he’s never had sex in a bed before, the closest he’s ever gotten being the backseat of a car, where it’s dark and anonymous. This room is so obviously Ron’s, it has personality in its little knick knacks and features. 

He still doesn’t know what to expect, what Ron wants from him. Making the decision for him would be best, he’ll drop his jeans and bend over, that way Ron won’t have to look at him beyond his ass and maybe he’ll get through this without losing a friend. He won’t have to look at Ron either, he can hide his face in his arms and act like he hasn’t been wanting Ron to fuck him since they first met, like he hasn’t brought himself off to the idea on the regular. 

The amount of space available to him is a welcome change even if he knows he won’t use it, knows he’ll keep his arms and legs to himself, take up the least amount of room he can. Best not to leave a mark, make it easier for Ron to forget this ever happened. 

He’s about to untangle himself and get into position when Ron makes swift work of his jacket and starts pulling his shirt up. It’s unexpected, most men don’t even bother with undressing him more than to expose the right parts, and like the bed he’s never had sex fully naked, there’s never been time. This is so far away from what he’s used to and he’s starting to feel like Ron is the only thing keeping him from falling off the precipice while at the same time pushing him closer to the edge. This could either end in disaster or turn out to be the best sex he’s ever had. 

With his chest bare he feels horribly exposed, fighting the urge to cover up, it’s one thing to be seen undressed in the locker room, but standing here with his dick hard in his friend’s bedroom is an entirely different scene. And he is hard, rock solid and straining, he would be embarrassed about it if Ron wasn’t sporting too, which is another unexpected factor. He wasn’t expecting Ron to get hard before Flip got face down, ass up, so he could do his thing and cover up again acting like nothing’s happened. 

He’s had a few guys wanting it like that, acting like it isn’t real if he never sees their dick, wanting him to stay still like a toy. In the heat of the moment he’s grateful Ron isn’t like that, he’s not sure he could handle it if he was, it’s going to be difficult enough to move on from this as is. 

Ron guides him down onto the bed before stepping back to relieve himself of his clothes. Flip turns his back, yanking his stupid bellbottoms down and taking position. The sheets smell like him, like coconut and spice and he thinks for a moment that maybe he won’t be able to go through with this. 

“Is this what you want or what you think I want?” He hadn’t realised how quiet it had gotten before Ron spoke, a warm hand smoothing down Flip’s tense back. 

“You tell me,” speaking is a lot harder than he expected it to be, his voice coming out rough like sandpaper. 

A kiss lands on his spine just below the cut of his hair, Ron’s chest warm against his back, “I think,” another kiss, “it’s time,” another, “someone took care of you for once,” A push at his hip is all it takes for him to tumble sideways leaving him on display for Ron to see. 

His jeans are gone before he has time to process what’s happening, suddenly he’s naked and Ron is settling between his legs, pressing him down into the bed. This is something new as well, he’s always done it with his back turned for the sake of convenience. He’s never had to look someone in the face while feeling their cock pressed against the crease of his thigh. 

Despite the change in position he still expects this to be a quick affair, but Ron keeps surprising him by leaning down to mouth at his neck, firm hands touching him in places he’s never been touched. There is no hard grip on his hips, no nails biting into his skin, it’s soft in a way he’s convinced himself he could never have. 

By the time he catches his moan it’s too late, it’s already out there and he can’t take it back, Ron hums back from where he’s sucking on Flip’s collarbone. “Let me hear you, baby,” he reassures, speaking to the flushed skin of Flip’s chest, he rolls his hips once, coaxing out another soft groan. “Yeah, that's it, baby,”

When a warm mouth closes over his nipple Flip’s cock twitches in interest where it’s pressed between their bellies. On his own he’s always liked playing with his nipples, but having someone else do it is a gift he should have asked for sooner. It’s almost too much, the need for more tingling in his stomach. 

“Please,” he finally begs, he’s barely hanging on, teetering on the edge of letting go, of letting himself enjoy this fully. 

Ron listens, reaching between them to rub at Flip’s hole, pushing the tip of a finger in to pull at the rim. 

“Please,”

Just when Flip thinks he can’t take it any more Ron reaches into his bedside table coming out with a tube of KY. He shudders in anticipation, too far gone to care how he looks or sounds. This is what he needs. 

While Ron slicks himself up Flip makes a motion to turn over again. Ron stops him before he can get more than a third of the way there, pushing him back onto the bed with a kiss that takes his breath away. It’s there, while Flip is swimming in dazed arousal that Ron pushes into him. 

Flip’s entire body tingles with the sensation, arching up in search of more contact that Ron gives up freely. There’s not a single complaint while he clings to Ron, trying so hard to hold on to that damned edge while Ron rocks into him at a steady rhythm, sparks zipping up Flip’s spine with each thrust. 

He’s been ruined, Ron has made sure of that, the chance he’ll ever have something like this again is slim to none. “Just let go,” a voice whispers to him and it takes him a while to realise that it’s Ron, “I’ve got you, baby, it’s okay.”

Flip let’s go. 

He falls. 

It feels like it’ll never stop, his body convulsing, vision turning white. How could he have missed out on this for so long? 

Ron’s hips stutter and he goes to pull back, “No,” Flip mumbles through the haze, closing his legs tight around Ron’s waist, pushing him deeper until there’s just enough space for Ron to rut against him. He wants something to remember this by, something he’s never let anyone else do. 

Sated, spent, and covered in a layer of sweat Flip holds on just long enough for Ron to finish before allowing himself to slump. Body still twitching with aftershocks he barely even notices Ron sliding down next to him, pulling the covers up over them. 

The next thing he knows he’s waking up to the smell of cooking bacon and coffee, body pleasantly aching. Ron singing along to Sam & Dave drifts in on the pale Sunday morning sun reasserting that last night really did happen, that Ron made him come so hard he practically passed out.

Well, shit. 

This isn't something he ever made a contingency plan for because why would he ever have sex with a coworker or a friend, with someone he knows. Not to mention he probably screamed loud enough to wake the whole building. He should get dressed and leave before he gets thrown out, avoid that awkward conversation he really doesn’t want to have. 

He’s pretty sure he came here wearing clothes, but there are none, not that belong to him. Now what? He can’t run out of here stark naked with dried cum on his chest, a hickey on his collarbone, and hair resembling a crows nest without raising a few eyebrows. He could nab the sheets, but he doubts Ron would let him walk out of here with them. 

Speak of the devil, “I figured you’d try to run so I took the liberty of washing your clothes,” Ron smiles at him from the doorway and Flip automatically goes to cover himself with his hands. 

“I won’t tell anyone about this.” Who would he tell anyway?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” The fact that Ron isn’t wearing a shirt makes him feel slightly better about his own nudity. “I’m worried that you’re going to run off and dig yourself into a hole about this.”

Oh. 

“I’ve already started.” Flip’s whole life is full of holes like that, what’s one more. 

“Then let me stop you.” Flip accepts the kiss as it comes, leaning down into it, basking in Ron’s hidden talent of making him forget how to worry for a little while. Just for now. 


End file.
